


Mr. Ramsey's Home for the Troubled

by MeganBenoit



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Brief mention of Mr. Jack Pattillo, Brief mention of Mr. Michael Jones, Gen, No shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:27:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganBenoit/pseuds/MeganBenoit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of a story I wrote about a medical practitioner named Elliott J. Archambeau Jr. who went to work at Montreal's newest insane asylum: Madame Ellington's Home for the Troubled.</p><p>Now it's about Mr. Ray Narvaez Jr. and his adventures at Mr. Ramsey's Home for the Troubled. </p><p>This work is not to be taken seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Misters

If a person were to pass by the old building, there would be no doubt that their heart would plummet and their skin would crawl. Indeed, even as I begin to describe that awful establishment, it gets harder to breath. Windows barred with thick poles, dirtied with rust and bacteria. The heavy scent of decay could even be smelt among the grounds, and the gentle echoes of screams long since screeched could be heard. The building seemed to be in a permanent state of dread, and whoever passed, certainly felt its effects.

Mr. Ramsey’s Home for the Troubled. I suppose it sounds pleasant; a home for those with struggles in their lives, a safe haven for those unfortunates. But, I promise you, that hellhole is nowhere near a sanctuary. I’ve visited it myself, and I can attest that it is literally an establishment out of hell. I still get nightmares to this day.

However, this is not my story. This is the story of a young Puerto Rican man named Ray Narvaez Jr. 

Ray Jr. couldn’t have been more than 25 years old, however he was already top of his class in at the Community Channel. Indeed, this was quite the accomplishment during the 21st century. Especially since his father, Ray Sr., and his father, Ray Sr. Sr., were both successful videogame practitioners. The Narvaez family was quite popular among the people of Austin, being one of the top contributors to creation of Texas' newest establishment – Mr. Ramsey’s Home for the Troubled

Finally, the citizens of Austin did say, a place to stick those “good-for-nothing dangerous menaces to society’. Quite rude, if you ask me, but this was far before my time, and people then were rather horrible. 

In the outside, Mr Ramsey’s Home for the Troubled was beautiful. Sprawling gardens of rich greens and vibrant reds, and paths dotted with the finest marble imported from the fabled India surrounded the building. The building in question was brick, light in colour with arching windows, which, of course, were blacked out. Mustn’t let its occupants see the light of day. 

The inside was a nightmare. Halls that never seemed to end, connecting with one another as if their builder was playing a little game with the poor souls that found themselves stuck in it. Many of them would stick to their rooms, too afraid to venture out for fear of getting lost in the endless labyrinth. 

But, back to our lovely ol’ chap Ray Narvaez Jr. You see, due to the fact that Mr. Narvaez was so advanced in his studies of video gaming, and, of course, due to his reputation, he quickly found work in this establishment. 

It was a respectable position, to say the least. Three hundred and seventy-eight dollars a year, just below the wages of the simply rich, but far above the measly forty dollars the common folk earned. All in all, Ray Narvaez Jr. was rather content with his life.

So much so, that the man started to explore more and more of his mind. Ray would spend his free time sitting in the hallways of the asylum, listening to the agonizing screams of the poor souls, such as Mr. Jones, as they yelled at their computer screens. And our lovely little Ray Narvaez Jr. couldn’t feel anymore at peace.

Okay, scratch that. Off to Mr. Justin Kan’s Home for the Twitchy he went.


	2. Meeting Mr. Ramsey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had more of my short story; decided to add more. Four chapters because why the heckle not.

“Oi! Bastards!” A booming voice filled the hollow hallways and a gentle splash of water, and a more metallic substance, dripped in the distance. ‘Twas but our dear Mr. Ramsey – as handsome and rich as fabled. But it had been many years since the opening of Mr. Ramsey’s Home for the Troubled, and the nightmare had but continued to increase inside those damned walls.

“Wakey wakey!” Mr. Ramsey bellowed, his call responded with the voices of agonized men and women who had the misfortune to land such an existence. “Come on, little shitheads! Time to begin yet another day of entertaining the audience!”

Indeed, Mr. Ramsey not only owned this establishment, but had made it his own personal playpen. The citizens of Austin, however, turned a blind eye. As long as those troubled beasties were locked away, no one would ask questions. And for those with a curious eye could be paid off… The Ramsey family, after all, was one of the richest families in all of Texas. 

The many years of working in such a solemn place had taken its toll on the horrid man. Our once charismatic and kind business prodigy had changed; his eyes no longer held the warmth, the hope, and the sanity that they once held.

Of course, if you would ask Mr. Ramsey (and I’d tip my hat if you’d get close enough to) about his sanity, well, he’d certainly assure you that he was complete sane. Yes, no doubt about it! Was all for science – just experiments, and indeed the act of it, was keeping him sane! Ha-ha!

But if you were to ask the occupants, the victims of this warped man, they’d tell you quite the opposite. Mr. Ramsey talents in the business field had translated to that of darker means. Experiments, trials, tests – observations of the human resistance! How easily bones could break, how soft and vulnerable human skin was… Mr. Ramsey was fascinated, and this purgatory was the perfect collection of specimens. And hey – it made him money.


	3. Mr. Gavin Free and Mr. Ryan Haywood

Laughter filled the room. Was it his? No, no… He was perfectly sane, he was. 

It must have been years since he had found himself in that nightmarish home. Couldn’t have been more than 12 when he was shipped off to Mr. Ramsey’s Home for the Troubled. His parents, being strong Catholics who ‘believed in the power of God, and all that is holy in this world’ were certainly convinced that Gavin, the boy in question, certainly did not fit the ‘holy bill’.

Gavin Free, a small man for his age, was ‘diagnosed’, and I use that term lightly, with ‘demonic abilities’. Certainly, to us today of sane mind, this is rather preposterous. But, as I’ve mentioned before, people in that time were rather horrible, and, consequently, very judgmental. Bastards.

Then there was Ryan. Not much was known about the gent – In fact, he didn’t know much about himself either. Standing at an impressive 6’5, Ryan, or the Vagabond, as he preferred others to call him, was certainly intimidating. Mr. Ramsey, who claimed to fear none of these ‘menaces’, was even wary to go near the brute. 

So Ryan spent most of his time in the dark recesses of his cell, brooding and muttering obscenities to himself, or taking out his aggression on the crumbling walls of the asylum. Of course, the gent wasn’t exempt of the sadistic practices that Mr. Ramsey was so fond of.

So, as these two oddities found themselves trapped, used as experiments in this horrid place, they found companionship between each other. And from that shared pain, anger grew.


	4. Hello Audience!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone freaks the fuck out.

“Rye, we have to get out of here…” Gavin whispered, his voice shrill and agitated. “We’ve already lost Jack, I can’t… Oh lord, I can’t lose any more.”

Ryan inclined his head, his breath ragged. It had been too long since they had fresh air, and the room was starting to go stale. The gent could feel his lungs struggle to fill with the thick vapour. “Gav, you need to calm down.” Ryan’s voice was low and quiet, as he attempted to keep his face stoic. “Freaking out is not gonna help the situation. We gotta stay calm if we got any hope of getting out of here.”

All was silent except for the rough breathing of the pair, before a scream filled the hallway. A sudden burst of noise like a firework was heard, and - once more - silence. 

Gavin sniveled, his head burrowed into the crook of Ryan’s arm. The thin fabric of the gent’s poor excuse for a top muffled his sobs, before his head shot up at the sound of a voice.

“Wakey wakey!” The voice could be heard in the distance, and the duo knew it could no other than Mr. Ramsey. “Come on, little shitheads! Time to begin yet another day of entertaining the audience! Where oh where are my dear little ones?” With a groan that caused the whole room to shake, the door was swung open to reveal a thin man with a walking stick. Indeed, it was Mr. Ramsey.

Gavin’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating as he shimmied back and away from the imposing man. Squeaks of protest, along with the sound of ripping, filled the room. The room trembled with the screeches, ear-splitting and garbled, like someone trying to cover a sputtering faucet. 

Ryan sat a short distance away, his jaw set and his gaze low. His large frame shook as he stared at the dirty concrete floor, and soon a thick crimson liquid mingled in. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring as he shakily stood up.

“Bastard!” He choked out, his once stoic face beginning to drip with salty tears. “Oh, Gavin… Fuckin’ Gavin…” He murmured, his eyes wide and filled with rage. “Y-You killed him!” His knees failed him, and he knelt to Gavin’s side. “He’s gone… What have you done…”

Mr. Ramsey watched the younger man weep over the boy, his gaze transfixed on the visual despair. His eyes sparkled with excitement, his body jumping with enthusiasm. It was so beautiful… The young boy’s head was twisted to the side, his throat twisted inside out and pouring with vermilion fluid. His arms were cocked at impossible angles, and his leg was torn from its socket. 

Coming up behind Ryan as he wept over the corpse, Mr. Ramsey trailed a blade along Ryan’s throat. With a swift slice, the gent’s head snapped back, and his decapitated body crumbled to the ground. The bodies of these two unfortunates were intertwined, the crimson sulfuric liquid merging together.

Facing a camera in the corner of the room, which was feeding directly to YouTube, Mr. Ramsey waved.

Laughter filled the room again and Mr. Ramsey left the vicinity. It was time to return home, to his wife and child. He supposed there was going to be beer and scones waiting for him, and his stomach grumbled with anticipation. It had been another long day at work at Mr. Ramsey’s Home for the Troubled.


End file.
